


The Impossible

by Dioh



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:22:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3488138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dioh/pseuds/Dioh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if their destiny was not only to be here together, but to be here TOGETHER?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Impossible

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first contribution to the fandom, so consider it a warning :) 
> 
> English is not my first language, but I've translated the text from Russian as best I could. All the credit for being the best beta-readers in the world goes to Potboy, whose help was invaluable and improved my work immensely; and to Fragged, who stirred me into action and supported all the way through it. 
> 
> Without both of you this story would've never seen the light, and I cannot thank you enough! You, and many others in this fandom have been my inspiration, and I'm happy to be a part of this amazing community.

The Light

“I think we should go. Search the place, see if anything valuable can be recovered,” says Rush.

Young stares at the Kino screen intently, not answering for some time, standing shoulder to shoulder with Eli who holds the controller.

“Too risky,” he answers reflectively.

“Oh please, we found no signs of life on the planet! It's as dead as it gets.”

“You didn’t even want to come, Rush, and now look at you, all excited about some god forsaken temple.”

“I don’t think it’s a temple,” Chloe cranes over to look at the controller, frowning slightly.

“Your mission was to gather rocks, so of course I didn’t want to come. I didn’t know there would be a temple that could possibly hold the knowledge of long lost civilizations, or at the very least some extra information about Ancient culture and religious beliefs, or…”

“I really doubt that’s a temple,” Chloe repeats one more time, interrupting Rush, and this time all eyes are on her, “I’ve studied some Ancient architecture, and even basic knowledge is enough to see that it's not a place held sacred. It’s something completely different.”

“What do you think it is?”

She shrugs without taking her eyes off the small screen, where a Kino is courageously making its way through the building in complete darkness and quiet. “No idea. It would be great to take a closer look, maybe there IS something valuable?”

“Also, how often do we have an opportunity to barge into some Ancient building and ransack it? Maybe it has food...or something?” Eli quickly adds, smiling, when the Colonel inspects him with an indecipherable expression.

“See? Out of the mouths of babes...“

Both Chloe and Eli shoot unimpressed looks at Doctor Rush, who seems to be quite thrilled by the opportunity to explore some unknown Ancient building. Though maybe it's just because he really doesn’t like collecting rocks.

“We could go first, Colonel,” Scott proposes, adjusting his assault rifle on his shoulder, “make sure the place is clear. Then the scientists can come.”

“A waste of time,” Rush shakes his head, “and we have only three hours left. We should go together.”

Young looks at the screen for a few more minutes, ignoring Rush's persistent glaring at him and studying the dark, endless halls and corridors the Kino is exploring. Finally he raises his head. "Okay, we'll go in two teams, military first. Let’s see what this place has in store.”

***

From afar the building looms large above the ground, and inside there's this strange, deafening silence. The place looks huge. The hall they enter first stretches into darkness, impenetrable but for the faint light from the open door. The place is dark and solemn, and every small sound born from their steps and hushed voices gets lost in the gaping obscurity and dies out in it, reverberating between the walls and whirling up to the ceiling, lost among the smooth vaulting. There is something leaden in the cold atmosphere of the hall, in its hollowness and in its state of neglect. And so far all they can see is the broken door and waves of sand on the floor, mixed with centuries-old dust.

Eli is the first to notice a console in the corner near the entrance and he rushes to it, flicking away dust from the screen and pushing some buttons. “It’s dead. No power at all.”

Rush only sniffs in contempt “Obviously. This place has been abandoned for quite some time, if you haven't noticed it for yourself.”

“Maybe we should look for the generator? Try to restore the power, at least get some light inside…” Eli shines his flashlight into the omnipresent darkness further down the hall.

“I don’t think three hours is enough time for me to explain all the reasons why this is clearly a bad idea.”

“Well, you could list a couple.” Eli's voice is slightly hurt and annoyed, although he tries to hide it.

“Alright. Did you see the pry marks on the door when we entered? Somebody forced their way in here before us, and could have left quite a number of surprises - starting with booby traps and finishing with a tracking device, activated by turning the power on. We should use caution lest we give ourselves away. So apply that outstanding mind of yours and contain yourself, If it's not too much bother .”

“And how are you going to get all that information about long lost civilizations then?”

“By looking with my own eyes, Mr. Wallace.”

Eli mutters something unintelligible in response, evidently wounded by Rush's scolding, and Chloe smiles comfortingly at him, stroking his shoulder.

“Ok here’s how we’re going to do it”, Young un-slings his rifle and takes it in his hands, “Two teams: Scott, Eli, Chloe, Barnes - you’re the first, Greer, Rush and I – the second. We go separate ways, radio me every half an hour or if you find anything you need our help with. We only have two hours for the search, and then we head back to Destiny. Clear?”

“Yes, Colonel,” Scott nods.

“Great. Good luck with the search, report in half an hour. Rush, stay behind me; Greer, you get our six.”

”Understood, sir.”

“You're the leader, Colonel. Lead the way,” Rush sneers.

Greer looks at him with a dead-pan face, but both he and Young ignore the remark, and they venture forth into the darkness.

***

The path that Scott's team has chosen is littered with something looking like glass, pieces of it constantly crunching under their feet. Four patches of light skim the walls, flicking cavities and niches out of darkness where the glass shards are the thickest, pedestals with nothing on them and other consoles (all dead), that Eli approaches cautiously only to confirm the obvious.

“This place creeps me out. It's just so...silent,” Eli gives a squirm while shining his flashlight haphazardly in random directions, “You know what it looks like?”

“A museum,” Chloe stoops to rummage in a pile of glass shards and retrieves a piece of metal that vaguely resembles a corner of a picture frame.

“Yes, exactly! Like that spooky museum from that movie where all the showpieces wake up at night and kill the guards or something,” he moves the flashlight under his chin and smiles ominously, “...Eeeeeeeeerie.”

”I like museums. But this place looks like it'd been robbed bare a hundred years ago and then maybe robbed one more time just to make sure,” Scott halfheartedly pokes another pile of glass with the barrel of his rifle, “I don't think we will find anything useful here except dust. Seems to me that everything useful has already been found and stolen long before we came here.”

“Maybe they left something? Or forgot.”

“Yeah, they were totally like ’what's that really important and valuable thing? Let's leave it here and completely forget about it while we break every other case we encounter!’ That sounds reasonable."

“You're just angry at Rush, and you know he was right,” Chloe stuffs the metal frame piece in her backpack and zips it, “He learned from personal experience that sometimes activating alien technology is not the best choice.”

They keep walking for around half an hour until they meet a dead-end and have to take a turn. The place has no windows whatsoever, and smells of something familiar, yet not recognizable - like a mixture of dust, old paper, and fungus. There's nothing left, only bare walls and broken glass, even some of the consoles are ripped from the floor and broken to pieces. And sometimes they stumble upon dark stains under their feet, thick with sand and dust, but no one speaks a word about them. They only try to avoid stepping on them.

“You know, this reminds me of my school trips to museums,” Eli casually moves the glass with his foot, peeking into it, “I really hated those though...”

“Chloe can you help me with something?” Scott pulls her hand, putting a finger to his lips and turning off his flashlight.

“Um, yes, sure!” She also turns off hers and lets herself be lugged away, the other way round Eli and Barnes, to the nearest niche - where Scott pins her up against the wall and kisses her on the lips, ignoring a stray spot of light glancing over the wall near them.

“...Especially those moments where you needed to find a partner to do group work afterwards, you know? For classes. Never worked for me.”

“Huh,” is Barnes' only response, when she moves her flashlight away from the couple hiding behind the wall, “really?”

Eli turns back, then looks around, directing his flashlight in every corner at once

“Err, where are Chloe and Scott? Guys? Guys!!”

“It's ok, Eli, give them a minute. Or two. You know,” Barnes looks at him meaningfully with a sardonic lift of her eyebrows.

“Oh...you think...” She continues looking at him, raising her eyebrows yet higher, “B-but it's a museum! An alien museum!”

“Yeah. And it's even more boring than those on Earth, so let's go,” she moves her flashlight to the path before them and makes her way.

“But it could be dangerous! What if there's something lurking in the dark, waiting for the chance to get its revenge for all the stolen paintings and sculptures?” he breaks off for a significant pause and then finishes discomposedly, “Don't you think we should wait for them? Make sure they're fine and not assaulted by a museum monster?”

Barnes rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, right. Don't worry - Scott can protect the girl, and I can protect YOU.”

“Um...ok,” Eli's flashlight now shines on the floor in a hesitant manner, “If you hear me, guys, don't go too far! Stay safe! You can catch up with us any time!”

“Stop shouting and let's go!” Barnes ushers him with the point of her rifle.

“Wait...I think I've found something!” he suddenly crouches and reaches out to a heap of crushed glass.

***

“I think I've found something.”

It’s the beginning of the second hour and up until this moment the whole exploration mission has been a failure. They found nothing except the shattered glass, the walls that look like marble, thick-sown with bullet holes, the dark, hollow corners and absolute silence. They spoke little on the way, wondering why any intelligent race would build a museum on a dead planet this far from any sentient life. No one had any reasonable explanation, not even Rush, or else he was keeping his thoughts to himself. But after an hour of roaming around fruitlessly, Young is ready to call it a day because apparently chances of finding anything of use in this crypt are close to zero.

And the strangest thing is that signs of battle are everywhere; there’s blood on the floor, but no bodies or remains. Something definitely isn't right about this place, and Young is not sure he needs to know exactly what.

So when Greer suddenly calls for them he feels a wave of suspicion first, raising a hand to stop Rush from jumping forward and slowly approaching the wall Greer is pointing at.

“It's like a mirror under a glass case. And look,” Greer jerks the barrel of his gun up to indicate the inscription, “It has some writing on it.”

“Let me see,” Rush pushes his way to the mirror, and Young moves aside. Rush leans towards the surface of the glass, training his flashlight on it. “Well, I'll be damned...” he mutters under his breath,

“What is it?”

“I'm not sure...” Rush follows the writings on the glass and examines every corner of it, stopping on the small metal panel on the bottom that looks like it has been torn off, “...but I think it could be a mathematical puzzle.”

“A what?” Greer looks at him incredulously.

“This,” Rush points his finger at the writing, “is Ancient numbers. Equations. It seems that you need to solve this puzzle to get the case open. The answer is input using that,” he points at the panel.

“Looks like somebody's already tried it.”

“And failed, obviously. That's why they tried to remove the panel completely, and also remove the glass. See the scratches?” he sheds some light on the sides of the glass, “They must have been afraid to break it because it could damage the mirror, so they left it at that.”

“Maybe they left it for some other reason. Why do you think it's a mirror at all? It doesn't reflect anything. See?” Young waves his flashlight at the mirror as a demonstration, and the glass stays dark and immune to it.

“That's not entirely correct, Colonel,” Rush continues to scrutinize the glass with his flashlight at hand, “If you look closer, you'll see that only the numbers are reflected in the mirror. It's all part of the puzzle, I assume. Give me some time with it.”

“Are you certain it's a good idea to try and open this? You were the advocate of not touching anything and just looking.”

“Colonel, this panel isn’t powered. I imagine it's not even connected to the grid here, otherwise it would most probably have been hacked and opened before.  Besides, I don't think the Ancients would build such an elaborate security system for this mirror just so they could place some explosives underneath. They wanted to preserve it. It may be our only chance to gain something significant from this as of yet pointless excursion, so please...” he pauses for a second, looking straight in the Colonel's eyes, and in this poor light for a second he almost seems pleading, “Let me look into it.”

Young studies him for a brief moment, not entirely convinced, but acquiesces finally, lowering his rifle.

“You have an hour.”

“Right. To business then,” he pulls out a small notepad and a pencil from his pocket, leaning back on the glass, and starts to write in his pad, “I will need you to hold the light, please.”

Greer raises his flashlight and shines it on the surface, eyeing Rush warily.

***

The Ancients never made things easy, that's for sure. Rush checks his numbers for the hundredth time, pushes the buttons on what remains of the panel, and again receives no response. This thing starts to get on his nerves, mostly because the equations seemed so innocently simple and primitive at first glance, but when he set to them he started feeling something was off. The answer came to him in minutes, and he found it hard to believe that the Ancients could truly consider this a high level of security, especially keeping in mind how infernally frustrating and complex the ninth chevron had been. Still, he tries putting the answer in, and naturally - nothing happens. He delves into the lines of numbers again and again (fortunately there aren't too many of them), getting distracted once or twice by the Colonel's radio-chatter, and the small talk Young initiates with Greer probably to kill some time because he is in no other way useful for the task.

Fucking hell.

Rush wants to break the glass and rip the mirror out of the wall to explore its ancient depths with his bare hands.

And it isn't helping that the numbers are the only thing reflected on its surface - because that’s as much use to him as is the aimless prowling of the Colonel around the hall.

Finally Young settles himself near the wall, glancing at his watch, “Half an hour left,” he informs Rush in his usual, matter-of-fact manner. Rush bites his lip and tries to transform that exasperation and anxiety into something positive and helpful. He fails at that too.

He attacks the numbers once again, trying to solve them backwards, typing the numbers in reverse order, changing their places in all sorts of manners until it strikes him, like lightning in the middle of a storm.

What the mirror does to the numbers is not to reverse their order. And it isn't about solving the task backwards either, because that also, obviously, doesn't work. What it actually does is it changes the very nature of the equation, so the numbers aren't really the numbers and variables written on the glass - they are the opposites of themselves. And only a person familiar with the ancient mathematics as intimately as Rush is could see what’s hidden behind the simple facade - a mathematical paradox, known to him since his first attempt at breaking the ninth chevron. It’s perfect, so clever and ingenious that he can't suppress his smile, as he starts to write fervently in his notepad.

“Have you figured it out?” Greer regards him with a mildly curious look, “You're smiling.”

“’There’s nothing impossible...to him who will try’*, sergeant,” Rush absently replies. He gives a slight shake of his head to get his hair out of the way as he finishes constructing the equation in his pad, without even noticing he's still smiling, “One more minute and it's done.”

“Great. Then maybe this mission still has a chance of proving useful,” Young gets to his feet, standing beside Rush and adjusting the rifle.

Rush eyes him suspiciously, casting a cold look at the weapon. “I doubt that will be necessary, Colonel.”

“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst,” is the usual, imperturbable response. Rush doesn't grace it with an answer, focusing on the solution.

“Now.”

He starts typing the symbols slowly, carefully, holding his breath before pushing the last button. He can feel his heart rushing in his ears, making him dizzy, making his head spin. Why is this so important to him? Is it because of the challenge that the Ancient puzzles always present, or is there something more to it than that? He seemed to be drawn to this piece of glass immediately, and that is a strange feeling - the invisible, yet firm gravity of the mirror...it is astounding.

He wonders if he’s the only one who feels it.

Meanwhile, a few seconds have passed, and his heart almost sinks to his knees in desperation, skipping a beat, when suddenly the case cracks loudly right in the middle, and the sound sends an echo flying between the walls. All three of them observe, mesmerized, how the case is vanishing into the walls around the mirror, until the mirror itself is left completely exposed.

“So...are we taking it with us now?” Greer is the first to raise his voice. Rush takes a deep breath, digging out his flashlight and directing the light at the mirror.

“Fascinating...” he whispers as it absorbs the light completely, remaining dark and impenetrable. Maybe it isn't a mirror after all? Judging from the look of it its surface is solid, but could possibly be coated with some substance that allows it to consume the light from the environment, reflecting nothing at all...

“Rush,” Young's voice is sudden and sharp, “What about your ’no touching’ policy?”

Rush jerks his hand back, wiping his forehead, and looks crossly at the Colonel. He can hear a faint, distant voice coming from behind the glass now, a voice that is clearly addressed to him, a muffled song, a whispered promise, a lover's sigh. It calls for him commandingly.

“How do you propose to get it onto Destiny, then? We need to find out how it's attached to the wall, so we can take it off.”

“I'm just saying that we refrain from touching the glass for now. If it _is_ glass.”

“Fine.”

Rush starts to examine the frame of the mirror as the feeble voice grows stronger in his head, but that doesn't scare him at all. In fact, it makes him even more eager to press on. He frowns when he sees another small bit of  writing on the bottom part of the frame - but when he leans closer to read it he feels a wave of sudden heat coming from the mirror. Then many things happen at once, but he isn’t able to register any of them, because the bright light hits him in the face, blinding and deafening, and he loses himself in it completely.

***

At first there is just the light, just the shrilly whiteness of it, without any sense of his body or time, without sound, or smell, or space. The light floods everything: his head, his thoughts, his whole world, it's stretching, spreading, accumulating, increasing, like a huge incoming wave... It swallows him whole, deconstructing his body, dissecting it, disintegrating - and then exploding into thousands of sensations and images, moving pictures, where he is simultaneously an observer and a participant, where he sees everything and IS everything. The temple with high vaulting that isn't a temple at all, the sound of a radio signal, Young's voice, strained and urgent, the ice-cold floor: the scenes change one after another, thick and fast, and as fast as that there’s something enormous and inevitable growing in his heart. The light walls of the medbay, soft covers under his fingers, "What else did you see?", his heart clenches with alarm, "...if there's even the slightest chance to prevent any of the possible threats...", the doubt, the fear - and Young. Young is everywhere: in the mess hall, at his desk, on the bridge, looking at him, talking to him. Something warm crawls into his heart and clasps it, enfolds it; "Careful with that...you know that's how people become ghosts", "...I still wouldn't choose this path willingly", his own voice; a dark and narrow room, the anger, Young at his desk with a mug of alcohol, hunched shoulders, worry pricks a sharp, cold needle at his heart - and then Young kisses him on the observation deck, holds his face in his hands and all the worries vanish, the needle breaks into thousands of splinters and he feels tranquility.

Peace.

Shelteredness.

Bliss.

Young's kissing him again on the bridge, Young holds his hand, Young, Young, Everett, the dim lights of the Destiny's corridors, his desk in front of his bed where they lie together, and Young is hugging him from behind and kissing his shoulder, the green light from the console illuminates his face, Young is laughing, the event horizon shoots its way out of hiding, transcending human capacity of apprehension...the light, the dryness of another's lips, the coldness of stars, the warmth of a hand on his neck.

"Would you like to ascend?"

"You don't look too good"

"I trust you"

"So what are you going to do with me now?"

The pictures move faster and faster, so torrentially that he can't discriminate one from the other, can't understand. All the voices coalesce into a dull, pulsating boom, flares of light and faces flash before his eyes in a kaleidoscope of color and pattern and above all that, atop everything, is that sensation that reigns inside him, proudly and infinitely, so strong that he fears his heart won't be able to bear it, to fit it inside of him. And the second before that feeling becomes unbearable he manages to catch the last glimpses of this merry-go-round of chaos - he and Young shoulder to shoulder, "I wouldn't entrust it to anyone else." And again the light, pouring from somewhere above him, but this time it isn't approaching but receding, and there’s a feeling of the end, finality, the pain in his chest, copper on his lips, and Young's voice, soothing, caressing:

"I'm here...I'm with you, Nick, everything will be fine, I promise...I will never leave you." And Rush knows it's a lie because Young holds him by the shoulders when even that last light dies down, and with it everything dies down in him - except Young's touch,  the memory of it, each moment they had together and that feeling, that is now pulsing in his temples, aching under his ribs, and making his head go round.

***

He opens his eyes, but at first he doesn’t know if everything's over or not, because there's light in his face AGAIN and the feeling of touch, the sure grasp at his shoulders. He doesn't see it, but he doesn't need to see to know it's Young. He brings a hand up to shield his eyes from the light, squinting, not yet having come to himself and rasps, trying his voice. “What are you doing... Stop touching me, Colonel.”

Was it real? Was it all happening now, here, in truth? He feels his heart still beating heavily, strenuously, with that unnamed feeling, but now his mind is telling him that the fucking mirror was playing games with him, that what he saw was just some fucking joke, a figment of imagination, a message misinterpreted and misleading...

Young releases him and moves away. The light goes out with him and everything falls dark. Rush needs a few more seconds to understand he's sitting on the floor, and that cold floor only amplifies the feeling of déjà vu.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel like someone who has no clue as to what's going on here.”

“You came too close to the mirror, it exploded and you fainted.”

So this is what turns out to be the last missing piece in this puzzle - the feeling of embarrassment, slowly crawling up his insides to his splitting head.

“You’re bleeding. We're returning to Destiny immediately.”

It’s the same voice, followed by the same sound from the radio he heard in his visions, and it makes the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. He winces at the notion, wiping blood from his lips and chin that he strangely didn't notice before, and his headache is growing thicker with every movement. Like after having a good fight with the Colonel, only this time it wasn't a fight, but...

No. It was just a dream, he tells himself, and hears his own voice cursing under his breath. At least Young's not touching him anymore, or else both his mind and his chest might explode the same way that fucking mirror did.

“Can you walk? Sergeant, give doctor Rush a hand.”

“I am perfectly capable of walking on my own, thank you,” Rush answers, though he's not even sure if he can move his hand from his face, because his head is killing him. Despite that, he tries and pushes himself up to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall. He feels the Colonel's eyes on him, burning into his back constantly, and the physicality of the mere stare awakens another flush of fear in him.  Because he remembers now, he knows what he saw, because he still feels…

“Suit yourself. But if you pass out again, I'm getting a kino-sled and I'm going to strap you to it.”

Rush chuckles, not even sure why - maybe because of the voice, or because of what he hears behind it.

Shit, there's nothing behind it. He should return to Destiny as soon as possible, back to his consoles and math; let them smother the memory of this place and this event out of him. All he needs is some good sleep and a hard task to solve, and that in itself would be sufficient.

But before he heads back there's still one thing...

“What the hell you think you're doing, Rush,” Young’s voice catches up with him as he makes a move toward the mirror. It's cracked now, lifeless, empty - devoid of the light he saw there. And it doesn't call to him anymore, but he still needs to know.

“It's fine, Colonel,” he feels a firm grasp on his hand and raises his eyes to see that Young is looking at him just as firmly, reproachfully. "Protectively" whispers a small voice inside him, and he shudders, twitching his hand out of Young’s grasp and shifting his gaze away, “There's no need, it's broken now.”

“How can you possibly know?”

“With the power of observation, Colonel. There's a crack down the middle of it. I only need a second, give me some light, if you don't mind.”

Greer looks at Young, waiting for his order, and Young glares at Rush with something in his eyes that is more exasperated astonishment than actual anger. “Do you want to get blasted again? Don't tell me you understand how it works now, because a minute ago you clearly didn't and you're bleeding all over yourself because of it. Leave it.”

Rush wipes his nose again and makes a huge effort to look at Young. He still has to lean on the wall, and he's quite sure that in this moment he looks just as he feels - completely ruined and pathetic. Well, that only means that he has nothing to lose.

“If I can just see what's written on this mirror...I might have a chance of understanding any of this.” The pause lingers and he understands that Young is going to refuse him again, so he adds quickly, “Colonel, please...it may help.”

He makes himself look, so he doesn't miss it when the stubborn inexorability in Young's features is replaced by tired concession. “Man, you're a lot of work...”

Young approaches the mirror first and directs the light accurately on the frame to check if it will react. Only when nothing happens does he lets Rush come closer, and he holds his elbow to prevent him from falling head-first. He's also standing between Rush and the mirror, ready to act. And Rush is trying not to pay any attention to the roaring blood in his ears, because Young is touching him again, Young is holding him. It almost blinds him for a moment, and then the next moment he makes every possible effort to try to remember everything he knows about Ancient...

But when he starts getting the meaning of the words, he regrets that decision immediately.

His skin crawls and there's a lightness in his chest, this strange feeling, this bloody feeling, it can't be, it can't...

“That's enough. Let's go.” Unknowingly, Rush has started to sag in Young’s grasp, knees buckling under him, so when the Colonel's hand pulls him from the mirror, he allows it, speechless, stunned, resistless. His heart is in his ears, and he prays silently not to fall on his face as he leans on Young on their way back - because his knees are too weak, and the Colonel is too close.

***

TJ closes the door behind her, taking her gloves off with a sigh.

Young takes a step toward her. “So how is he?”

“I've stopped the bleeding. His blood pressure is a bit high and he has a bad headache, but I wouldn't say that's unusual. All of the tests I performed showed nothing abnormal except the obvious - underweight, low blood sugar, exhaustion... And unfortunately, I can't estimate possible brain damage without special equipment which we don't have here, so,” she shrugs her shoulders somewhat helplessly, “That’s all I can tell you for now. I'll keep him under observation.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

“All he told me about the incident on the planet is that he saw a light...and then some more light.”

Young frowns. “That doesn't sound like him.”

“Well, he is slightly disoriented, possibly in shock. A bit distracted, like he's reflecting on something, but otherwise stable. Conscious," she gives him a little smile, “He even agreed to run some equations for me, to check his higher reasoning processes.”

“So he’s sane?”

“He seems so. As I've already said, I have no means to do any specific tests on his brain, only the basics. Can _you_ explain what happened?”

“We found an Ancient building, some sort of a museum, with nothing inside except a mirror. It was locked behind a case with a mathematical puzzle, so naturally Rush wanted to solve it. I let him, and when we got to the mirror he started acting...strange,” Young fidgets, “Anxious.”

“You think it was affecting him?”

“Could be. The mirror was light-absorbing, didn't reflect anything except numbers, but when Rush came closer to it...” Young shakes his head frowning uncertainly, “It happened very fast, I couldn't stop him in time. There was a short flash and he fell down. He was shaking, eyes closed. Then the bleeding started.”

Young closed his eyes for a second, as if reenacting the moment in his head - or, maybe trying to block out the vivid picture.

“I radioed the other group, and then he came round, acting like nothing happened. I thought it would be best if you took a look at him first, before I start with my own questions.”

“I see.”

“He has to stay with you for a while, under observation. He interacted with an alien artifact, you understand what that means, and what the possible repercussions could be. It might not even be _him_ anymore.”

She looks aside, a tiny crease between her eyebrows.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Young looks back to see Varro, clutching the door jamb of the other part of the medbay awkwardly, “I just wanted to say that the results of the last test came in a minute ago and they're negative.”

“That's good news, thank you, Varro,” TJ nods with a glimpse of a smile, but the look she gives the man is warm and grateful.

“I've already cleaned the equipment, so I'll just be there if you need me for anything else.”

“Ok, thanks again.”

And in one second that warmth is gone, and she is back to being concerned and self-possessed professional and Young can't help but feel a pang of regret. It only lasts for a moment.

“So, you want me to make that call?” TJ asks formally.

“You're the only one who is qualified to make it. I trust you, TJ...and I trust in you.

She nods absently several times, without looking at him, but finally meets his gaze. “Ok. I'll keep him in. No visits, no access to the computer. Can't promise that won't drive him insane.”

“I'll talk to him. If he's still the man we all know him to be it shouldn't be hard to convince him.”

“I don't think it's a good idea right now. He is still shaken, better give him some time to collect himself and calm down.”

“No, I think now’s the best time. It’ll be harder for him to lie.” He nods to TJ, unclasping his hands, which had been locked tight behind his back, and heading to the next room, where Rush is waiting for his fate to be determined.

***

Rush is sitting on the edge of the bunk with his head low and hands clutching the side of the bed - but he straightens when he sees Young. Rush gives him a quick, elusive look and smoothes down his hair in a gesture that should probably look casual, but to Young it's just downright nervous. The door behind the Colonel closes with a loud thump.

“How do you feel?”

“I know why you're here, Colonel, so let's just skip the pleasantries and cut to the chase.”

“All right,” he takes a few steps closer to the bunk, noticing that Rush twists uneasily in reaction and clutches the bunk again. He doesn't like it, “So what happened between you and that mirror back there?”

“You saw what happened. It exploded in my face.”

“Yes, but what else? Did you feel anything unusual? Had any...” he shrugs, “out-of-body experiences?”

Rush doesn't look at him, clasping his hands tighter. “No, nothing of the sort. I'm afraid I can't help you with that, Colonel.”

“It's not me you need to help here, Rush. You know, talk like that won't get you out of here any time soon.”

Rush squints his eyes at him, finally looking up. “Is this your attempt to intimidate me?”

“It’s my attempt to point out the fact that you need to cooperate with me for your own benefit. I'm here to help.”

Rush snorts, looking down again, fingers clasping and unclasping restlessly. Young is waiting patiently for him to say anything, and this time, unlike so many other times with Rush, he is rewarded for his patience.

“I saw...something in the light,” he admits hesitantly, reluctantly, “Visions. Pictures.”

“Pictures of what?”

Rush halts, a frown on his face. He shakes his head, and Young likes it even less.

“I'm not sure. It was so fast and blurry, it's hard to discern anything specific...”

“Rush.” Young tries to sound calm and not at all annoyed or hostile, but it turns out that his own name is enough to shut Rush down completely. He sighs, and tries once more. “Tell me the truth.”

There’s a long pause after that, filled with uncertainty. Rush continues frowning and looking at his feet, and Young lets the silence linger on, determined to repeat his previous success, which was achieved by giving the man some time to form his thoughts and deliver them. Young has all the time in the world.

Surprisingly enough, it works. Rush finally takes a deep breath and answers: “Well...If you really wish to know, I believe I saw my own death.”

This time the pause is not intended, but caused by Young's own need for some time to digest the words and the tone of Rush's voice - calm, collected, detached.

“Your death.”

“There was a sequence of events...connected with our journey, the mission. Events, that haven't yet happened.”

“You're telling me you saw the future?”

Rush briefly smiles to himself. “Well, that's one way of putting it. I can't be 100% certain of course, but the sequence of images I saw started with this conversation we're having now, and ended in a bright light and...a certain sense of closure.”

“You saw our conversation?”

“A flash of it, yes.”

“What else did you see?”

Rush opens his mouth, hesitates - but then smiles faintly again, shaking his head. “I told you, Colonel, it’s extremely hard to remember anything in particular from that chaos of incoherent pictures. Most of it doesn't make any sense to me, so I can't be any more specific about details.”

Young continues to fix him with his eyes, now even more insistently. “Did you see any threat to the ship?”

“I don't think I did.”

“No more deaths?”

Rush looks at him with a full suite of fleeting expressions, but the only one Young manages to recognize before the man averts his gaze is an ironic smile - and for a short moment the Colonel feels like a complete and utter shit. Here Rush is, telling him how he saw his own death in the future, following being hit in the head by an unknown alien device because Young wasn't fast enough to protect him, and now Young's all like "Yeah, ok, so you die, but how about anyone important?" Nice one, Colonel.

But the moment passes and he reminds himself that it's his responsibility to ask these kinds of questions, that as a commander of the ship he must think about the safety of the whole crew, not just one person. And also, that it's not like Rush to be fearful of such things as prophesies.

“I don't remember seeing anyone else’s death, no.”

Ok, time to wrap up this conversation then, and try to end it more gracefully than it started. “Listen, Rush, I need you to understand that if there's even the slightest chance to prevent any of the possible threats...”

“Colonel, this ship is threatened twice a day on a good day regardless of my visions. But if you insist - I have already told you two fucking times that I don't remember anything that could help you, or me, or anyone else on this ship! Are you sure it isn’t YOUR mind that’s been affected by that mirror?”

Rush presses the heel of his hand to his temple, and at that sight Young feels a familiar guilt working within him, aching in his chest. Rush's speech is thick with his accent, almost incomprehensible and he winces, likely from a headache. “And for the record, I don't actually believe in predestination, so I if I were you I wouldn't give this mess a moment’s more thought.”

“You said it yourself, you saw us talking here.”

“I saw a FLASH, a moment, one or two phrases. That’s hardly a surprise, because I could predict them anyway! And I sure as hell don't recall telling you that all this future nonsense is just some bloody shite!”

Young chuckles. “So that's why you refused to talk about it at first? To rebel against fate?”

The look he gets from Rush is again very quick, but he could swear he sees a hint of confusion there. “I don't believe in it. And if you don't acknowledge the existence of the concept, it cannot affect you.”

“Sounds more like ‘close your eyes and everything around will go dark’ to me.”

Rush stares at him. For the first time during the conversation he holds his gaze on Young longer than two seconds and that is a strange look, closed off, but intense, as if he’s searching for something in his face.

The silence strains from awkward to uncomfortable and Young finally asks, “So do you know what happens next?”

“You mean, have I seen it in my head, or do I know what you're going to do with me?”

“Both.”

Rush finally takes his eyes off him, and he can't deny that he feels a small wave of relief. “I imagine you'll keep me locked here, until you need my assistance to save the ship again or until you torture me to death with your pointless questions.” 

“You might not even have to wait for that, if what you say is true.”

“Right,” Rush mutters under his breath bitterly, “As long as I don't have to talk to you, or anyone else about the shit that happened there and the spiritual or religious meaning of it while my head’s splitting in two.”

“I’m going. So, if you have anything else to say, or something I should know about, now’s the time.”

“I have nothing more to say,” Rush closes his eyes tiredly, rubbing his temple with his fingertips, “...except, I believe the whole trip was just a waste of time. Leave me in peace, Colonel, or you'll have to watch me hit the deck again, and I'd rather retain some dignity if it's all right with you.”

“Ok.”

Young turns to the door before remembering about a detail he didn't have time to ask about on the planet. “One last thing. What was written on the frame of that mirror?”

Rush pierces him with an inscrutable gaze, like the closed-off, yet searching look he'd subjected Young to earlier. It's as if he is turning his answer every way in his mind, weighing all the pluses and minuses, and that’s one more thing that Young hates, and one more thing that doesn't let him trust the man. 

But this time Rush’s voice sounds soft, and tired. Maybe Young’s imagining it, but there's a sadness to his tone.

“It said "Fate - or Destiny if you wish - is a reflection in the mirror. You can turn away from it, but you can never escape it.’”

Young nods in acknowledgement and leaves the room, feeling Rush's intense stare at his back like a burning light.

**Author's Note:**

> *This is a quotation by Alexander the Great.


End file.
